Just then a report spread through the crowd that Dunmore had seized the powder for the purpose of sending it to another county where he feared there would be an uprising of the blacks.
“We’re likely to have one of our own,” exclaimed a bystander.
An old woman, somewhat deaf, cried, “The blacks are risin’! I knowed it. I didn’t dream of snakes fer nothin’.”
“If I had your imagination, Granny Snodgrass, I’d make molasses taffy out o’ moonshine,” remarked a pert miss.
“Looks to me, Angus, as though these people were going to do their fighting with their tongues,” said Rodney. “So let’s get away to New Castle.”
When they reached New Castle, late the next day, they found Mr. Henry busy assembling the volunteers for a march on Williamsburg to demand return of the powder, also to see to it that Dunmore did not take the money in the colonial treasury. These men were called “gentlemen independents of Hanover,” and they were manly looking, resolute men, and well armed. By the time they had reached Doncaster’s, within sixteen miles of Williamsburg, their number was increased to one hundred and fifty.
“Dunmore will wish he hadn’t when he’s seen ’em,” remarked Angus.
Dunmore was frightened before he saw them and sent Corbin, the receiver general, to meet them and make terms with them, which he did, paying three hundred and thirty pounds for the powder, surely all it was worth.
“I’ve concluded, Angus,” said Rodney, “from what I can see and hear, that Mr. Henry hasn’t cared so much about the powder as he does for an excuse to rouse the country, get the men together and encourage them by backing Lord Dunmore down,” all of which indicated that the lad had become a shrewd observer.